Broken
by J.Vengeance
Summary: Set pre-Legacy, specifically 1999, just after the death of Sam's grandmother. Alan takes Sam back home so he can move his stuff, since Alan's now his legal guardian. It's the first time Sam's been there since her death.


**I don't know why I felt so compelled to write something so sad...I guess I just feel like there must have been a moment like this in Sam's life at some point. Hopefully it comes across with as much emotion as I intended.**

**Title:** Broken

**Author:** Jeni V

**Rating:** K

**Pairing:** none; just kind of a father/son affection between Alan and Sam. Could be kind of slashy if you wanna look at it that way. ;P

**Summary**: Set pre-Legacy, specifically 1999 just after the death of Sam's grandmother. Alan takes Sam back home so he can move his stuff, since Alan's now his legal guardian. It's the first time Sam's been there since her death.

**Disclaimer:**I don't own or possess or anything of the sort in concern to the Tron franchise. I just play with it. And admire it. Constantly. With glittery, adoring hexagons in my eyes.

Alan's car chirps as he presses the lock button. It's sharp, loud, annoying, and it cuts through the somber tone in the air like a bullet. Alan feels Sam flinch more than he sees it. The grass crunches under their feet as they walk through the white picket fence and up to the front door of the Flynn residence.

Alan steps aside to let Sam use his key and is surprised when he doesn't use it on the door to his room, but on the main door to the living room. It swings open silently, almost ominously. He watches Sam hesitate on the threshold, brow furrowed like he's confused or maybe reliving some past event. He doesn't have the heart to tell him to move but eventually he does so on his own. His hands are in his pockets and Alan can't tell if he's trying to be casual or hiding the fact that his hands are shaking; maybe both. He follows Sam inside, closing the door quietly.

For a while, Sam just stands there. He's staring at the couch like there's someone there, someone he wishes he could talk to but doesn't have the courage to. All of a sudden, he doesn't look like seventeen-year-old Sam Flynn, the infamous-across-the-county troublemaker; he looks like the seven-year-old boy whose father didn't come home. Alan turns around to stare aimlessly outside the window at the cloudy sky. He really can't bear to see the son of his best friend, who's now legally his responsibility, looking so lost and so broken. And he's frustrated with himself because he knows he should say something, do something comforting, tell Sam that it's okay. But he doesn't know how, not without it sounding contrived.

He hears Sam take a couple steps, opening the door to his bedroom. The following silence becomes deafening as Alan can tell Sam's just staring again, lost in some train of thought. He never knew Sam could be so quiet. Any other day and he was just like his father, muttering to himself about anything and everything, occasionally throwing random bits of enthusiastic ideas at Alan from what he would fix on the Ducati to outlandish theories on achieving world peace. The flashbacks make Alan smile wanly.

Suddenly, there's a terrible series of crashes and Alan jumps, whipping around to see Sam ruthlessly tearing his room apart. He's knocking everything off the shelves, all the action figures, all the books, all the trophies; electronics are shattering into a million pieces. The lamp on the night table joins the wreckage before Sam grabs a picture frame, intent on launching it wherever it will shatter the most.

This is when Alan steps in. He grabs his wrist sharply and Sam drops the frame. Sam fights back silently, as if making a sound will make this reality. Alan holds him close, preventing him from destroying anything else and attempting to tame this inevitable breakdown. Sam struggles wildly before Alan hears it: the smallest hitch in his breath. And that's it; everything is reality. Sam collapses in his arms, a choked sob tearing itself from deep inside his chest. Alan doesn't think he's ever heard anything more heartbreaking in his life. He turns Sam to face him, hugging him tightly. Sam buries his face in the crook of his neck, crying harder than he ever thought he could allow himself to. It's as if it comes from the very core of his being.

Alan can feel it. He knows this breakdown is long overdue and he hears it when Sam asks through a fit of tears, _"Alan…why does no one ever come home_?" Just asking the question makes Sam dissolve back into childish sobbing and Alan's fairly certain at that moment his heart just disintegrates because he suddenly realizes just exactly what Sam's going through. He lost his mother before he could remember her, then his father disappeared without the slightest warning; his grandfather died, and now his grandmother is gone too. Sam is the only Flynn left.

"_Oh, Sam,"_ he whispers, a tightness in his own throat. He hugs him closer, as if it would protect him from the rest of the world. He almost thinks to remind Sam that one day his dad will come home. But then he realizes that, even if Kevin did come back, the damage is already done.


End file.
